


Tusk Love

by KelseyAnneLovelady



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Edubation, Erotica, F/M, Jesters Book, Romance, Tusk Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-05-29 01:11:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyAnneLovelady/pseuds/KelseyAnneLovelady
Summary: A fanfiction based on the smutty romance novel "Tusk Love" from Critical Role Season 2... Cause I'm trash.Guinevere Bethrum is the daughter of a traveling merchant from the Dwendalien Empire of Wildemount. Life on the road is difficult; Guinevere never stays in one place long enough to make any friends, let alone meet eligible gentlemen. Her father has become a paranoid, almost hateful person after the loss of her mother and keeps Guinevere as though she were one of his goods.On the way to Druvenlode, a half-orc named Oskar saves Guinevere and her father from bandits. As it would turn out, he is the son of the trader who has hired Guinevere's father. Despite the man's prejudice against half-orcs, the money for the job is just too good for him to pass up. He agrees to the job and Oskar is sent on the road with Guinevere and her father to care for them and protect them.Will Guinevere and Oskar overcome the prejudices of their families and the world? Or will they be forced apart by petty opinions. Follow this saucy romance written by mysterious author Ategar Lightshroud, the best selling author who also wrote "Titillating Tiefling" and "Nasty Gnome".





	1. Chapter 1

Tusk Love  
By Ategar Lightshroud

Chapter 1

The gentle summer sun beat down on the open cart as it bumped over the Amber Road. Guinevere Bethrum sat in the back, crowded by her father’s good and their entire, meager estate. She was supposed to be protecting the goods from loss or damage, but instead, her mind was wandering as she stared blankly at that road passing behind them. How she wished that her feet could fly her back to… anywhere.

It wasn’t that she was ungrateful for her father and everything he had done for her all her life; far from it. The life of a traveling merchant was not easy, and if she was tired of it, she knew that her father had to be exhausted. It was just that the moment she started to get comfortable anywhere, they would have to pack up everything and move on. The constant movement made it very difficult for her to start living her own life. If her mother were still there to take care of her father, Guinevere would’ve just taken her things and settled down in one of the towns they visited. Perhaps Zedash.

“Guinevere!” That was when she realized that her father, Grerkor, had called to her at least three times. “You’re supposed to be watching the cart. Not day dreaming.”

“Sorry, father.” She could swear that she heard him call her a silly girl under his breath again. It was days like this that made Guinevere feel like her father cared more for his goods than her.

“Do you see anything?”

“Just dead grass and rocks.” Grerkor would ask if Guinevere saw anything every hour, on the hour when they were on the road. Ever since her mother was taken, he became a paranoid man. If it weren’t the promising money that he always said they would make in their travels, Guinevere was certain that he would’ve locked himself and her up in a home in the middle of nowhere. That was the one fate that was worse than her traveling lifestyle; at least as merchants, her prison was mobile.

Guinevere untied and retire her ebony braid, a habit she did repeatedly whenever she was bored on the cart. There was little else to do; the one book that she had exchanged for back in Zedash had been read at least three times since the journey began. Consequently, Guinevere knew the story almost like she knew the back of her hand. How she wished her father would allow her to have more of a collection. “Too much weight” was always his excuse for denying her a basic library. 

Right as she was about to tie off her braid, Guinevere was nearly ejected from the back of the cart. When she could right herself enough to ask what had happened, her father’s irritation laid voice exclaimed, “Another pot hole! How are we supposed to care for and deliver our goods if the Empire won’t have the basic decency to care for the road!” Without bothering to listen to her father’s complaints, Guinevere grabbed the crowbar from the tool kit and jumped out of the cart. Right as she knelt to insert the bar beneath the stuck wheel, Guinevere noticed that shape of the pothole. She had never seen such a perfect pothole created by the weather before.

Right as the thought crossed her mind, there was a violent tug on her braid. Guinevere’s pained cry was cut short by her fear when a rusty but sharp blade was placed against her throat. Looking around, Guinevere found one man throwing her father off the front of the cart and kicking him repeatedly as Grerkor crumbled with cowardice. Another man was climbing into the back of the cart, rummaging through their goods and assets, throwing out anything he deemed useless. The man holding a dagger to her throat was breathing his sour, hot breath right into her, making her shiver in disgust.

Once the man beating Grerkor was satisfied with his violent work, he threatened, “Stay down, old man.” Turning his attention to Guinevere, he sauntered up to glare hungrily into her mahogany eyes. With artificial politeness, he jested, “Forgive our rough hands, milady. We haven’t enjoyed the warmth of a woman since before the winter hit, and we’re all feeling a tad too impatient to invest in proper introductions.”. His rough, scared hand grabbed hold her dress sleeve and yanked, violently tearing it from her milky skin.

“Oi! Don’t you dare start without me!” The one who had been rummaging through the cart dropped everything and rushed over to join his comrades. He dropped to his knees and started ripping Guinevere’s skirt open from the bottom. Frozen in fear, Guinevere could only snap her eyes shut and try to block out the callused hands and lewd laughter as she awaited her fate.

Out of nowhere, one of the hands on her skirt were ripped away and a cry became a bit faint before it was cut off with a sickening crack. “HEY!” The other two bandits released Guinevere, letting her fall into the dirt. Opening her eyes, she saw the bandits rushing at a towering mass of muscles bound in laurel green skin. Two giant hand grabbed the bandits by their necks and lifted them a foot off the ground. They made breathless chocking sounds as their feet kicked and their nails clawed in panic. The savior’s light blue eyes looked on these rogues mercilessly as his tusked mouth pressed into an expressionless line. His walnut brown hair was cropped short on the sides but had been left to grown long and wild on the top of his head. The course strands floated gently in the summer breeze and the muscles of his scared arms and chest rippled as he continued to squeeze the windpipes of the rogues. Guinevere didn’t notice that the bandits eventually grew still. She didn’t even notice the third bandit, whose back had been shattered when he landed violently on a large rock almost fifty yards away from the road. All she noticed was the statuesque half-orc.

Once the half-orc dropped the rogues into motionless, crumpled piles, he turned his attention to Guinevere. His ice eyes softened as they met her amber ones, though his expression didn’t change in the slightest. Stepping over the bodies, he towered over her, causing her to withdraw from him; her father and told her horror stories of half-orcs. Her mind was telling her that he was a dangerous monster and that she needed to run. Her heart, however, kept her in place.

The half-orcs hand relaxed as he offered Guinevere his open palm. After a moment of hesitation, she laid her shaking hand into his large one. His hand gently engulfed hers and he pulled her to her feet. Their gazes upon one another lingered for what seemed like eternity, but in truth, was not even a minute.

“Back! Back you beast!” Grerkor found his brave streak the moment he laid eyes upon the half-orc and pushed his way between his daughter and the tusked savior. “I’ll not let you take her from me!”

“Father!” Guinevere grabbed her father’s arm, trying to pull him back and calm him down. “He saved us!”

“Don’t waste your kindness, silly girl! He could kill us in a moment of weakness!”

“Grerkor Berthum.” The half-orc interrupted the arguing father and daughter. Taking a bow, he continued. “I apologize for the abrupt circumstances of our meeting. My mother asked me to meet you so that I may escort you safely into Druvenlode. I saw the bandits from a distance and acted on impulse.”

“What do you mean your mother sent you?! How do you know me?! Who are you?!”

“I am Oskar, Son of Ekisha”. The merchant leader who had been corresponding with Guinevere’s father through post about her new stocks and the job that she potentially had for him. This was the son of Grerkor’s new boss.

Follow Me on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/KelseyAnneLovelady


	2. Chapter 2

Tusk Love  
By Ategar Lightshroud

Chapter 2

An hour later, the Bethrum’s arrived in Druvenlode with Oskar escorting them the entire way. That was the first time Guinevere insisted on sitting at the front of the cart in years. Her excitement and wonder at travel quickly fizzled away when she was a little girl, so she had become content with daydreaming in the back. However, she wanted a front row seat to see her savior.

At first glance, anyone would’ve assumed that Oskar was a nomadic barbarian; few who were a part of civilized society walked around in little else than heavy-duty trousers and hiking boots. The scars embedded in his arms, chest, and back enhanced the savage persona, and the sweat dripping off his hair and down his back followed the curves of his toned body, making them shimmer in the sun. Yet as the cart got closure to town, every person they passed waved and greeted Oskar with warm smiles. The little children would run up to him and hug him, begging him to pick them up and play with them. Every smile was returned with a tusky grin and a promise to play when his job was over.

Grerkor caught Guinevere staring several times, and every time he did, she would snap her eyes away with a face as red as Bloodroot. Every look made the already irate Grerkor even more irritated. No words were passed between any of the trio, and the awkward, frustrated air was heavy around the entire cart.

Finally, they made it inside the city. While nowhere near the splendor of Zedash, Druvenlode was a grand sight after seeing northern wastelands for days. The cobblestone streets were already a blessing on Guinevere’s round posterior, and the simple but beautiful architecture was a splendor to behold. The main street of the city housed a handful of taverns and inns as well as stores and emporiums of all goods: art; decor; meat; harvests. There were musicians playing on almost every corner, and their tunes beguiled Guinevere, though her father sneered at them. He would keep his eyes forward, refusing to make eye contact with anyone on the street, thinking that would deter the entertainers and urchins from groveling. Guinevere would make eye contact, silently apologizing for her inability to help them; as a child, she would give away any money she earned herself until her father caught her one day and struck her for once for every good deed she admitted to committing on that day. Ever since, she had been to afraid to do as her heart always urged. When she saw Oskar give out a gold coin to every entertainer and urchin they passed, her guilt deepened, even as her heart skipped a beat.

Finally, the cart arrived at a building bearing the name The Golden Shawl. While not the biggest shop in Druvenlode, this was no meager establishment. The entirety of the first floor was dedicated to displaying clothes for working women: simple blouses; working skirts; flexible trousers, aprons of various lengths. Everything came in every shape and size imaginable. There were colors to choose from, though they were muddy and unsaturated colors. The back of the store held a work room and an office where Grerkor and Guinevere found the owner while Oskar took the horse and cart to the town stables.

Ekisha was a middle-aged half orc woman with kind laugh lines set around her tusks. Her dark hair had gone grey with wisdom, and Oskar had clearly gotten his kind blue eyes from her. The thing that took Guinevere aback was that Ekisha hands seemed to levitate and control several needles and threads all at once without even touching them. What a skilled magic user was doing owning a simple clothing shop, Guinevere couldn’t guess.

With a warm, tusky smile, Ekisha released her mystical hold on the thread and needles. She approached Grerkor with the offer of a handshake. “My darling Grerkor. How good it is to finally meet you in person.”

“Indeed.” Ekisha either didn’t notice Grerkor’s physical discomfort and weak handshake, or she chose to ignore them. 

She turned her attention to Guinevere with the same hand. “And this must be your charming daughter. She’s even prettier than you said.” 

Returning that half-orc’s smile, Guinevere gave her a stronger, more enthusiastic handshake. “A pleasure to meet you, Madam Ekisha.”

“Oh, please. Just Ekisha. No need to be so formal, my dear.” Before Guinevere could argue, Ekisha’s eyes found the rips in the girl’s dress. The smile fell to worry as she finger the rips. “What in the name of Dwendle happened?”

Grerkor answered flatly, “Trouble.”

“We ran into some bandits on the road,” Guinevere explained. “If your son hadn’t arrived when he did… I’m not sure what our fates would be.” Guinevere didn’t even want to think about the potential outcomes.

“Well, that simple won’t do.” With a flick of her wrist, a tap measure floated into Ekisha’s hand. “Lift your arms please.” With awkward hesitation, Guinevere did as she was instructed. Ekisha took several moments to measure Guinevere’s round bust, wide hips, and curved waist, as well as her general height. “I have the perfect thing.” Ekisha started rummaging through the dresses on the racks in her work room. She pulled out an ankle-length dress made of olive green fabric. The straps were bout an inch and a half wide and the dress could be tightened from both the front and the back. “It’s not a luxurious garment, but it is functional and quite comfortable. You can wash up and change upstairs. First door on your left.”

Grerkor’s flat voice questioned, “How much?”

“Oh, no! No charge! Not for the daughter of such a good friend.”

“Oh, I couldn’t, Ekisha. This is such fine work that would earn you good coin. I can’t rob you of that.”

“Nonsense. I insist.” Ekisha pushed the garment into Guinevere’s arms. “You go get changed, and then we’ll feast at The Waiting Dove when my son returns. We can discuss business in the meantime, Grerkor.”

Guinevere looked to her father, still unsure. After looking at the garment in her arms, he gave her a stiff nod. Guinevere left the work room and stepped silently up the stairs.

The upstairs held two rooms. Guinevere had to assume one was Ekisha’s room while the other was Oskar’s. Opening the door to the left, she peaked in. The room was so simple and unadorned that she couldn’t tell at a glance which of the two half-orcs used the room. Laying her new dress on the bed, Guinevere pull off her ripped garment. She was secretly relieved that it had been damaged in the attack; her father was such a cheap man that he had refused to buy her a new dress until this one was beyond repair. The red fabric had raveled and was cover in dirt and sweat from the open road. Getting the heavy dress off her body already made her feel like a new woman.

That feeling increased as she soaked in the water basin. Ekisha had filled it with hot water in anticipation for the Bethrum’s arrival. As the dirt, grit and sweat rolled off her body, Guinevere continued to feel reborn. She could’ve spent that whole night there if she were the master of her own time. Nevertheless, the fatherly voice in her mind urged her out of the warm water and back into the cold air.

Guinevere had just slipped back into her simple cotton bloomers and chemise when the door was pushed open. Looking over her shoulder, Guinevere found Oskar standing in the doorway, dripping with sweat. Time stood still as these two creatures stared at one another. It wasn’t until a clashing crimson blush crawled across Oskar’s face when Guinevere realized the compromising position they were in. With a tiny squeal, she covered her body with her new dress as much as she could. Oskar’s gruff voice mumbled an apology before he quickly pulled the door shut.

Follow me on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/KelseyAnneLovelady


	3. Chapter 3

Later that evening, the two parents and children were feasting at the Waiting Dove. Apparently, Ekisha had more pull in the town of Druvenlode than either Grerkor or Guinevere thought; the best table in the whole tavern was held on reserve for her at a moment’s notice. Patrons and staff alike greeted her with warm smiles. It seemed like the only people who had more power than her was the politicians.

Grerkor sat Guinevere between him and Ekisha, forcing Oskar to sit across from her. As the group celebrated over herb forest strider, fire roasted rothe femur, pungent peppers, black strap bread, aged cheese, fire roasted nuts, dried fruit, beef sausages, and Blackpeak Ale, Grerkor and Ekisha continued to talk and negotiate business. Guinevere and Oskar silently ate and occasionally made eye-contact before they both averted their eyes with hot faces.

After the incident in the bath, Guinevere had to take several moments to compose herself before getting dressed. She left the room and found Oksar leaning against the wall next to the door. His presence made her jump, which made him mumble another apology as he rushed past her, shutting the door behind him. Ekisha didn’t question Guinevere’s red face when she returned downstairs; she just assumed it was due to the nice, hot bath. Grerkor, on the other hand, seemed more suspicious, though he never voiced it beyond a skeptical look in his daughter’s direction. When Oksar, entered the workroom after his own bath, Grerkor gave him the same look, which Oskar met with a blank, unreadable stare. Guinevere had to hope that such a straight face had made up for her red cheeks and averted eyes.

“I take it you had some time on the road to review the contract, Grerkor?”

“I did.”

“Do you have any questions or addendums?”

“Several.” When her father had talked to Guinevere about the contract mere days ago, he had absolutely no qualms about the document. Guinevere knew the only reason why he suddenly had issues was because of Ekisha’s race. Now, he was going to do whatever it took to rob her blind. If she didn’t give into his demands, the deal would be off. Guinevere was already resigning herself to leaving Druvenlode and getting back on the road in the morning; there was no way a strong business woman like Ekisha would give into Grerkor.

“By all means. I’d love to hear your view.”

“Well, Ekisha… your goods are so valuable, not to mention necessary in the northern lands. We just don’t have a secure enough cart to guarantee that your wares will get to where the need to go. Aside from the fact that our cart is open top—and, therefore, anything inside is subject to weather damage—we don’t have the means to protect ourselves from bandits, as has been proven today. I would hate for you to lose a profit because we didn’t have the means to deliver your goods safely.”

“Well, that’s I have had a new cart commissioned for you. It should take about a month to be ready.” Guinevere didn’t know which statement shocked her and her father more.

“…Oh, I’m sorry that your time and money has been wasted. You could’ve just bought us a new cart. You didn’t need to have it made from scratch.”

“Oh, I didn’t. I bought the wagon pre-made. The only reason why it’s going to take a month is because I’m having it enchanted. The spell will make the wagon more comfortable for you and your daughter, as well as make it more secure.”

Guinevere practically held her breath; on the one hand, her father had been talking about getting a new wagon for almost a year at that point. On the other hand, his bias against magic was only outdone by his bias against anyone with orcish lineage. He avoided magic as much as possible simply because he couldn’t understand it. The enchantment on the new wagon could break the deal.

“Oh, I’m sorry you went to all that trouble. I have no idea how to use magic.”

“That’s perfectly fine; I paid for the enchantment to be controlled even by non-magic users. There will be a circle of sigils that will activate the spell on contact.” Guinevere was becoming even more impressed by Ekisha with every word; it was almost as though she anticipated every compliant Grerkor would have. If Guinevere didn’t know any better, she would say that Ekisha has psy abilities.

“All of these gestures are very much appreciated, Ekisha, but I’m afraid we can’t stay off the road for a month; we have to earn a living after all.”

Suddenly, Ekisha flipped a coin-sized token carved from an emerald towards Grerkor. With fumbling, fat hands, he just barely caught it. “If you show that to any tavern here in Druvenlode, they will give you a room and meals for every day of your stay. They know to send the bill to me. You can even use it on other vendors, so long as what you’re buying is a business expense. That token will also work in most other cities in the Dwendalian Empire.”

Guinevere had never been so unsure about her father’s next actions as she was in that moment. Becoming an employee of Ekisha would give them both the power, prestige, and sway that Grerkor had dreamed of having for as long as she could remember. However, that fact that a half-orc woman had everything that he always wanted could make Grerkor spiteful and refuse the job outright because of that spite. Guinevere caught herself quietly whispering a plea to herself, subconsciously hoping that the universe would hear that plea.

After long moments of silence, Grerkor sighed. “Well, Madame Ekisha. It’s seems you have thought of everything.” He raised his tankard of ale. “I believe that means we have an arrangement. To a fruitful new partnership.”

With a tusky grin, Ekisha raised her tankard as well. “To a fruitful, new partnership.” Oskar and Guinevere followed the toast. After the four of them drank, Ekisha called out, “Barkeep! A round of Blackpeak Ale for everyone! Curtesy of Ekisha and The Golden Shawl!”

Beneath the cheers of ther tavern, Guinevere quietly sighed out a “thank you.” When she made eye-contact with Oskar, she realized that he had heard her grateful relief. With Bloodroot cheeks, Guinevere drank her ale deeply and looked down at the table. Ever she was baffled by her own desperation to stay in the city… It must be because she was tired from all the traveling… While else would she want to stay?


	4. Chapter 4

As Ekisha had promised, the emerald token got Guinevere and her father a room at the Waiting Dove completely free of charge. Grerkor also got an entire bottle of mead, which he claimed he needed to cope with the surprises of the day. In no time, that bottle was empty and cradled in Grerkor’s arms as he snored out drool onto his pillow.

Fortunately, Guinevere had become so accustomed to her father’s snoring that it was almost like a lullaby to her. She drifted off to sleep in no time and didn’t wake until the first morning light. Her father was still asleep as she slipped out of her room and down the hall to the wash room of The Waiting Dove. There was fresh, hot water in the water basin the melted away the soreness of a heavy sleep. The soothing oil felt so good as they soaked her hair and seeped into her skin. It may not have been luxurious, but it was more treatment than she ever got on the road. She was so comfortable that she didn’t want to get out. Eventually, the water turned cold, and the comfort was gone. She begrudgingly stepped out of the basin, dried off, and slipped into her undergarments.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Looking over her shoulder, Guinevere saw Oskar covered with sweat, breathing heavily. His ice eyes roamed over her moist body hungrily. Guinevere could’ve sworn she saw a tongue dart out to wet his lips. The look he gave her both frightened and intrigued her; her head was saying to run but her heart willed her to stay in place.

Slamming the door behind him, Oskar sauntered into the room and roughly wrapped his bulging arms around her petite body. How his large muscles fit perfectly around her curves, Guinevere would never know. He lifted her a foot off the ground as he tightened his grip to just before the point of crushing her. A callused hand crawled its way up her body before the fingers tangled in her hair and gently pulled, tipping her head back. His hot breath against her neck made her go limp in his arms while his grazing tusks made her shiver. That tongue darted out of his lips to taste, her soft milky flesh. Was the steam from the bath making Guinevere’s vision hazy? Or was it these incredible, new sensations? It felt like her body was on fire, but she still wasn’t warm enough. She craved more heat—his heat.

Guinevere’s eyes fluttered as she lulled her head. Had Oskar been stark naked this whole time? Guinevere thought she would’ve noticed—it would be impossible not to notice that throbbing, veiny beast between his legs. The sight made the fear in Guinevere’s head start to become louder than the desire in her heart. She had never seen an indecent man, let alone been with one in a conjugal way. This was all so new to her and things were moving far too quickly.

At that moment, the sound of breaking glass startled Guinevere. She sat up in a steaming sweat. It took her a moment to realize she was still in bed and it was the middle of the night. Guinevere sighed—whether it was in relief or disappointment, even she couldn’t tell. Looking over, she found that her father was still drunk and fast asleep. The crashing sound had come from his empty bottle of mead, which had rolled off the bed when he tossed. Guinevere knew that she should pick up the glass shards to save her father’s bare feet in the morning but had no patience to do such a thing; she was too tired and too… she couldn’t name the emotion, but she knew she was overwhelmed by it because of her dream… or because it had ended so abruptly. She flopped onto her back and sighed again.

For an hour afterwards, Guinevere tosses and turned, struggling to get back to sleep. The room seemed to hot, despite the cold summer air right outside the window. Guinevere kicked off the covers in frustration. She flipped her pillow over and over. Her skin was burning in in the stagnant, oak air. The only other way to cool herself down was by doing something she never did; she stripped away all the fiber inhibitions cocooning her body.

Once her flesh was being caressed by the air, Guinevere felt better for a moment. The relief didn’t last long, however; the heat swiftly blanketed her again and the discomfort set in quickly. Would relief never come?

Right as Guinevere started to ponder that question, she realized that her hand had subconsciously wandered between her legs. The realization made her snap the contact immediately. Years ago, when Guinevere was just becoming a woman, she would do the same thing. For reasons she never understood, it felt good to rub herself there. One night, the joy made her voice too loud and her father caught her in the middle of the act. Perhaps the mead had made him a bit more irate and violent then he would’ve been without it, but he dragged her out of the cart, grabbed the nearest broken branch, and whipped against her posterior so many times that Guinevere lost count. He didn’t stop until he passed out from consumption. After that she crawled back beneath her blanket and cried herself to sleep. The next morning, her father remembered nothing and constantly asked her which she was so hesitant to sit down for the following week. It had been six years since that night, and in those six years, Guinevere had never dared to touch herself in that way again… until that night.  
Her hand was rubbing against her soft thigh, entertaining the thoughts that were running through her head. Every snore from her father interrupted those thoughts and made her rethink them. This mental tug of war continued late into the night until Guinevere simply drifted off.


	5. Chapter 5

Guinevere struggled to wake up later the next morning. Her mind was awake, but her eyes refused to open focus. It took about fifteen minutes before they finally obeyed her, and when they did, the late morning sun forced her to shut them again in pain.

Once her eyes adjusted, Guinevere sat up. She found herself nude and shivering beneath her bedsheets as the brisk morning air seeped into the room. Looking over, she found her fathers bed in an empty mess. The shards of his broken bottle of mead had been lazily collected and disposed of, leaving only a lightened wood stain behind. When she stretched out of bed she found a piece of paper on the small table.

Guinevere,

I’m in business meetings and training with that half beast. I’ll be there all day. Don’t wait up and DON’T LEAVE THE TAVERN!

Papa

P.S. Cover yourself up when you got o bed. You’re not a whore so don’t act like one.

Guinevere sighed. Being cooped up in this boring building would be almost as bad as being trapped in the cart on the road. Still, she didn’t know her way around the city, so perhaps the boring place was the safest place for her. Besides, her father always taught her that people from out of town were primary targets for pick pockets, urchins, and swindlers. She would have a target on her back from the moment she stepped out of the building by herself.

Once Guinevere had slipped back into her undergarments and dress, she tip toed down stairs to the communal room of the Waiting Dove. There were fewer people there than she was expecting to see, but she realized that all of the other tenants had most likely already eaten and left on their individual errands. Furthermore, it wasn’t late enough for the lunch crowd to come along. She was about to go to the bar to order some breakfast, when a familiar face caught her eye and heated her face as she recalled her dream.

Oskar was sitting at a far table in the corner, waiting patiently. When Guinevere timidly approached him, he stood up in polite acknowledgement. “Good morning, Miss Bethrum.”

“Good morning… Oskar. What brings you here?”

“I’m he to take you on a tour of Druvenlode as soon as you’ve had breakfast.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you to offer, but I really shouldn’t leave.”

“Because your father ordered you to stay put? He told my mother, and she hates the idea of you being cooped up when you could be exploring the city… as do I.” Oksar’s declaration made Guinevere’s face even hotter, though she hoped Oskar wouldn’t notice. “She convinced your father that you would be safe with my company and guidance.” Guinevere had to wonder what had to be said to convince her father; there’s no way his permission came cheap. “I’ve already ordered breakfast for you. Please sit. We’ll be on our way once you’ve eaten.”

Oskar didn’t take his seat again until Guinevere had also sat down. There was a long moment of silence before Guinevere said, “… Thank you.” Oskar looked confused by the gratitude. “For being my guide today. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Bethrum.” There was another long moment of awkward silence. “… I would like to apologize.” It was Guinevere’s turn to be confused. “For… interrupting you during your bath yesterday.”

“Oh, don’t apologize. You didn’t know I was there.”

“I should’ve knocked.”

“It’s perfectly fine, Oskar. I was the one trespassing in your room.”

“No, Miss Bethrum. You were—are—our guest. You had every right to wash up after a long journey. I just… forgot my manners.”

“… Well, I accept your apology… but you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

The conversation was interrupted by the bar maid bringing a plate of toasted bread, beans, bacon, sausages, eggs, and roasted vegetables. They brought a tankard of freshly squeezed juice to accompany it. Oskar silently thanked the bar mid by flipping her a gold coin. Right as Guinevere was about to tuck into the warm meal, she stopped. “You’re not eating?”

“I already ate.” After another moment to think about Oskar’s matter-of-fact answer before she began to eat. The warm, heart breakfast invigorated her body and breathed life into her body again.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a warm meal made by someone else?” Oskar’s question made Guinevere realized that she had made loud moan of pleasure as she chewed her food.

With a timid swallow, Guinevere answered, “I’m not completely sure; my father doesn’t like to cook, so the meals we have on the road fall to me for preparation. When we’ve been in a city, we could only buy meals when father deemed the ‘affordable’.” The term was loose because Grerkor had a very stringent, strict definition on what was affordable. That definition always seemed to loosen up extravagantly when someone else was paying.

Oskar nodded at the answer. “Then I’m glad you’re enjoying the meal.” After more long moments of silence, Oskar asked, “Is there any thing in particular you wish to do today? Any shops you wish to go to? Any sites you wish to see?”

“To be perfectly frank, I don’t know much about there city, so I don’t know what there is to see… But if there is a book shop, I’d like to make a stop there.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Just something new to read while we’re on the road… There’s not much else to do to keep myself occupied in the cart.”

Oskar nodded in understanding. Awkward silence and simple small talk continued on until Guinevere had completely cleaned her plate and drained her tankard. Then, Oskar stood. “Are you ready for the tour?”

“Just a moment.” Guinevere darted back upstairs to the room to collect her old book before returning to Oskar. Oskar looked between Guinevere and the heavily read book in her hand. “So that I can trade it for a new book.”

“You can buy a new one and keep this one if you wish.”

Shaking her head, Guienvere explained, “Father only allows me to keep one book at a time. He says anymore would take up too much room and add to much weight to the cart. He prefers me to get books that I can trade for my old ones without having to spend any money.”

Oskar’s normally unreadable eyes seemed to turn sad. “… Shall we?”


	6. Chapter 6

When Oskar and Guinevere left The Waiting Dove, the city of Druvenlode was already bustling with traders and merchants. The city was starting to decorate for the Harvest Open, taking place in the coming weeks. The bright colors of summer banners were coming down and being replaced with the warm but dull flags of autumn. The children in town were running through the streets, enjoying their final days of freedom before their studies had to resume. Families on vacation were starting to pack up and head back to their homes in and outside of the Empire.

Guinevere was so taken by the size of the city that Oskar had to grab her arm several times to pull her out of the way of oncoming traffic. After about the third time, he linked her arm through his, choosing to escort her the rest of the way through the city. The gesture made Guinevere look down at the ground with a beet red face. That blush returned every time children that knew Oskar would ask if she was his girlfriend. Oskar didn’t even flinch at the question; he would merely chuckle and tell the children things like “none of your business” or “shouldn’t you be doing your chores”. The blush would also return whenever Oskar caught her staring at him in admiration, which would usually happen after she caught him slipping the beggars and musicians gold coins. His generosity was so attractive to her, and controlling her admiration was near impossible.

Finally, they came to the first destination of their tour; a book shop known as The Rainy Sign. Oskar allowed Guinevere to enter first. Inside was the biggest book shop she’d ever seen. It was so big that there was no way it could fit into the little space they owned on the block. There were five floors with books from floor to ceiling. There were chairs, couches, settees, even hammocks and beds for all readers to relax and read their selections. There were even spirits bringing drinks and meals to all of the patrons. When Guinevere heard a gentle, erratic beat against the ceiling, she turn to find enchanted windows that made it look like it was always raining outside. This was, indeed, the most beautiful shop she’d ever seen.

“Oskar!” When Guinevere looked towards the voice, she found a little middle-aged gnome with a bright smile, cat-eye glasses, and heavy make-up. She was sauntering up to Oskar with open arms and a flirtatious smile. “Where’s my kiss, big boy?”

With a smile, he picked up the gnome woman like a child and kissed both of her cheeks. “It’s good to see you, Minnoa.”

“You naughty boy. You don’t come to visit me nearly enough. I’m a very lonely woman, you know; I need a nice, strapping young man like you to check on me more often.”

“I’m sorry, Minnoa., You know how busy Momma keeps me.”

With a scoff and a wave of her hand, Minnoa criticized, “That woman keep you far to busy. Big young strapping thing like you should just sit back and wait for some wealthy heiress to make a trophy husband out of you.”

With another chuckle, Oskar said, “I’ll be sure to tell her that. Allow me to introduce Miss Guinevere Bethrum.”

The gnome turned to Guinevere and broke into a huge smile before jumping up to pull Guinevere’s face down to her level. She started poking and prodding her, saying, “Perfect skin. Gorgeous hair. Hypnotizing eyes. You look just like me when I was your age… well, you’re a little taller.” Turning back to Oskar, she jested, “Stole another heart, did ya, you naughty boy?”

“Behave, Minnoa. She happens to be a new customer for you.”

“Oh, I did always love a girl who liked to read. So, what can I get for you missy?”

“Well, I was looking to exchange this for a new book.” Guinevere handed Minnoa her old book from the road.

“My, my. Someone gets easily bored, don’t they? Normally I don’t exchange old books for new, but since you’re a new customer and an avid reader, I’ll make an exception. What would you like to replace it with? A period drama? A tragic romance? Perhaps something a bit saucier?”

“As wonderful as all of those sound, I’m afraid I have to limit my selection to something a bit more educational. Do you have anything on agriculture or trade?”

“We have a few things that might work. I’ve had a difficult time selling them, so if you’d like all of them, you may take them. I’d just be happy to get them off my hand.”

“I’m afraid I only have room for one book, but may I see what you have?”

“Of course, child!” With a hop, skip, and a jump, Minnoa lead Guinevere and Oskar up to the top floor of the shop. Hidden back in an undusted corner were the more educational books on subjects that very few people were ever interested in. There were about three, heavily used books. One was about the trading laws of the Dwendalian Empire, one was about the greatest experts from every country in all the world, and one was a guide for new traders on the market.

“I’ll take the one about the world’s exports.” At least with that book, Guinevere won’t be trapped in Wildemount for the rest of her life.

“Are you sure that’s all you want dear?”

“Yes, thank you, Miss Minnoa.”

As they were walking down the stairs, Oskar whispered to Minnoa, though Guinevere didn’t hear a word. She kept looking at all the shelves and shelves of books they passed. They almost seemed to be calling to her. Having to ignore those calls was heartbreaking to her.

“Guinevere, dear.” Guinevere turned to Minnoa right as they were about to leave the shop. “Are you going to be in town for only a short amount of time?”

“We had thought so, but we might be here for a little longer than we anticipated. Why?”

“Well, I don’t usually do this, but, if you would like to come back to my shop, I will reserve a seat and a nice cup of tea for you. You can spend as much time here as you want and read all the books you want. No charge, of course.”

“That is a very generous offer, Miss Minnoa… I hope I get the chance to take you up on it.”

“As do I. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Guinevere Bethrum.”

“And you as well, Miss Minnoa.”

With that, Oskar and Guinevere left the comfort of the books and rain for the irritation of the sun and the city.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been almost a month since Guinevere and her father had arrived in Druvenload. Every day, Oskar escorted Guinevere to The Rainy Sign in the morning. Per her promise, Minnoa reserved a seat and a cup of tea for Guinevere to read until the evening. She would even make her meals. Once the sun started to set, Oskar would escort Guinevere back to the Waiting Dove for dinner. The walks were always quiet and awkward, no matter how hard Guinevere tried to make conversation. Even so, every time her father asked what she did for the day, she felt the need to lie and say she never left the Inn.

Finally, the day came to get back on the road; the cart Ekisha had commissioned for the Bethrum’s was finally finished. The walk to the wainwright seemed to go far too fast. Guinevere was not ready to leave Druvenloade… or Oskar.

Ekisha and Oskar were waiting when Guinevere and Grerkor arrive at the wainwright’s yard. Ekisha greeted Guinevere with a warm hug and a smile while Grerkor got a stiff, professional handshake. “It has been such a pleasure to have you both in our fair city. I will miss you all, but I hope your new cart provides some homey comfort.” With that, Ekisha ripped a white sheet off the new cart.

It was a masterpiece; art on wheels. It was twice the size of their original cart and came with a cover to protect Guinevere from inclement weather. Instead of boring and hazardous unfinished driftwood, it was made of polished mahogany with gorgeous carvings. There were even steps in the back to help Guinevere up, and a cushion built into the driver’s seat for Grerkor.

“It is quite sufficient, Ekisha. Thank you.” 

Guinevere was ready to smack her father for his stubborn pride when Ekisha said, “Well, you haven’t seen the best part yet, Grerkor. Why don’t you go into the cart?” Grerkor and Guinevere looked a bit confused, but Grerkor did as Ekisha suggested and peaked inside the cart. What he saw made him shriek and jump back. As he fell to the ground, he pointed at Ekisha. “What kind of trick is this?!”

“Oh, I just had a friend of mine enchant the cart.”

Curiosity took Guinevere, and she peaked in the cart. The interior was beyond the physical limits that the exterior appeared to have; the flap opened to a positively gorgeous foyer decorated with the same carved mahogany that made up the outside. There was a warm fire place and mantel beneath a double-sided stair case, showing that there was entire second floor to discover.

The sight made Guinevere so happy that she ran over to Ekisha and hugged her tightly without thinking. “Thank you so much Ekisha! It’s magnificent!”

With a laugh, Ekisha returned the hug, saying, “Indeed it is. After all, that is the name of the spell that this cart is enchanted with. Hopefully it provides you three a bit more comfort and safety on the road.”

Grerkor and Guinevere looked at Ekisha, confused. “Three?”

“Indeed. My boy is going with you.” Guinevere looked to Oskar, who nodded.

“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Ekisha.”

“Oh, it no trouble. After all, safety in numbers and all that. I’m sure his presence will dissuade anymore roadside bandits from attacking you.”

“We are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves, Ms. Ekisha. Thank you”

“Oh, yes. I’m sure that attack on the day you arrived in Druvenload was just a fluke. Still, this is for my own security as well as yours. After all, if you get robbed, then I suffer too. Surely you can understand a woman wanting to secure her livelihood.”

Oskar and Guinevere watched their parents have a battle of wits and words to each get their way. Guinevere had to hand it to Ekisha; her father was a stubborn man who usually got his way by wearing down his opponents if his charm didn’t work. The fact that she wouldn’t back down meant that she was just as stubborn. However, Guinevere had never seen her father lose a verbal battle; she had no idea how he was going to take his first loss, let alone a loss against a half-orc. 

After a long moment of tense silence, Grerkor conceded through clenched teeth, “Then we thank you for your… boy’s presence.” A tight, stiff handshake sealed the deal; Oskar was joining them on the road. 

The foursome took about an hour to load the new supplies into the enchanted cart. Ekisha had thought of everything; there was even a store room built in. The ghostly staff of the cart provided some aid as well. The ghost’s unsettled Grerkor, but fascinated Guinevere. She was so grateful to Ekisha for this gift.

Before mid-day, the trio were ready to get on the road. Ekisha followed them to the city gates. She gave Grerkor another stiff handshake, her son a tight hug and kiss, and Guinevere an equally tight hug. Before she let the girl go, she whispered in her ear, “You take care of my son, Guinevere.” Guinevere couldn’t think that her son needed tending to, or what Guinevere could do to help, but she still promised the motherly half-orc. With a lingering wave, Grerkor, Guinevere and Oskar set off, leaving Ekisha and Druvenlode behind them.

“I’ll keep an eye on the cargo. Why don’t you go up stairs and get some rest.”

“No, I shouldn’t. Father-”

“I can handle your father. Go get some sleep. Your room is on the left.”

Room? Guinevere had her own room? That was all she had to hear; she gave up the insisting, and trekked upstairs.

Her room was more than she could’ve every dreamed of; a canopy bed, a wardrobe, a personal wash room… And a book shelf practically overflowing with books. There was a note on the reading table near the shelf. 

Guinevere,

I knew my mother was having this cart made when we went to The Rainy Sign. I also knew that book you got was not the one you wanted. So I ask Minnoa to give me a list of all the books you read in her shop and asked for suggestions based on that list. I hope you find this selection satisfactory.

Oskar.


End file.
